


Spitfire

by LadyMyfanwy



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMyfanwy/pseuds/LadyMyfanwy
Summary: This was prompted by something Richard Hammond said on an old episode of Top Gear. Ianto gives Jack something truly priceless. Even Miss Beeb got a wee it weepy while reading part of it. Please enjoy.





	Spitfire

‘It’s a little-known fact that several of mankind’s greatest inventions have started out as drawings in the sand on a beach. Henry Royce of Rolls Royce fame made his first sketch of the Merlin engine, the incredible motor that powered the Spitfire and the Lancaster in the sand at his local beach.’

Richard Hammond, Top Gear 

***** 

“Okay, now keep them closed,” Ianto removed his hands from over Jack’s eyes. “Count to three and then open your eyes.”

Quivering with excitement, Jack took a deep breath, “One… two… three!!!” and he shouted the last number. 

He’d been happily asleep, almost to the end of a wonderful treasure-hunting dream, when the pervasive aroma of freshly brewed coffee crept into his dream world. Giving up on trying to figure out where his dream-Ianto had hidden his dream-three-piece pin-striped suit – he’d already found the deep blood-red shirt, the pale grey tie shot through with red and silver threads, and a pair of very erotic scarlet-red silk boxer briefs – Jack opened his eyes and stretched like a cat, star-fishing across the entire bed. 

When his left arm and leg didn’t meet with the warm flesh of his bed mate, Jack sat up and looked around; thinking Ianto was using the ensuite, he called out, “Yan? You coming back to bed?” A big jaw-cracking yawn sucked in the phantom smell of coffee which got him up and moving; he slid out of bed and snagged his Y-fronts from the floor, sticking his feet through the leg holes as he hopped across the room to the door, which was unusually closed.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but there was a big sign on the inside of the door and written on it in big red letters was: ‘DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR, JACK’ and then in smaller letters it said: ‘or you’ll be drinking decaf for a month!’

He stood there for a moment wondering if Ianto really meant it, and he put his hand on the doorknob but then in the back of his head he heard a honeyed Welsh voice saying, ‘Jack, I swear on Owen’s porn stash, if you leave this room, we will never have sex again. Ever.’ Immediately, Jack snatched his hand away as if the knob had been red hot and went back to the bed, where he sat staring at the door with a pout on his face that would have made a four-year-old jealous.

Roughly six minutes later there was a knock on the door, startling Jack, who’d tipped over backwards and gone back to sleep. 

“Jack?” Ianto cracked the door and stuck his head in. “You up yet?”

“Huh…?” Jack hastily sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes for the second time in about twelve minutes. “Yup… wha…?” 

“How does coffee and croissants sound for breakfast? I’ve got that lovely elderberry jam that you like so much.”

“What’s wrong?” Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Jack stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Did Owen burn down the Hub? Did you guys feed Gwen to the Weevils? Is it time for my teeth cleaning already?”

Ianto laughed. “No! Nothing like that, you paranoid goose!” He slipped into the room and wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist. “I have a special surprise for you, that’s all.”

Holding Ianto close to him, Jack stuck out his lower lip. “Really?”

“I swear, Cariad,” Ianto gave him a peck on the lips.

“Good, cos you know I hate that dentist.”

“I don’t think he likes you very much either, Jack.”

“Yeah, well… he still shouldn’t have bitten me.” The petulant child was back.

Ianto cleared his throat, “as I remember it, you bit him.”

“Let’s just say someone bit someone and let it go, shall we?” Jack dismissed it with one imperious wave of his hand. 

“Yes, let’s forget all about the mean, nasty dentist,” Ianto crooned as he kissed him, long and deeply.

Mollified, Jack relaxed into his Welshman’s embrace, tickled pink that his little kid pouty routine had worked yet again. When their kiss finally ended, Jack grinned. “What’s my surprise, then?”

Pleased that Jack still thought his pouty routine was effective, Ianto stepped behind Jack. “Close your eyes.”

“Yes, please!” Jack leaned back and ground his butt into Ianto’s crotch, which earned him a light but sharp smack on said butt.

“Not now, you twpsyn,” Ianto laughed. “Think of that as afters!”

“Just remember, I like seconds!” and so Jack got his second smack of the day. It was just too easy.

Ianto stepped up against Jack’s back again and put his hands over Jack’s eyes. “Okay, walk six paces forward, find the knob…” He paused and had plenty of time to wish he’d chosen his words more carefully while Jack got his laughter under control, then he continued, “…open the door and walk forward til I say stop. Got it?”

“Sir, yes Sir!” 

“Just two more… and last one,” Ianto steered Jack to just the right spot. “Okay, stop.”

Jack did as told. “Now what?”

“Now, I’m going to take my hands away but do not open your eyes til I tell you. Promise?”

“Yup!”

“Okay, now keep them closed,” Ianto removed his hands from over Jack’s eyes. “Count to three and then open your eyes.”

Quivering with excitement, Jack took a deep breath, “One… two… three!!!” and he shouted the last number as his eyes flew open. The scene that greeted him took his breath away.

He was standing in the dining room, next to the end of the table they didn’t use for eating; it had been cleared of its usual scattering of debris – mail both opened and unopened, a half-empty biscuit packet, a porcelain dish celebrating the 1947 wedding of Princess Elizabeth and Prince Phillip used to hold spare change, and of all things, three odd socks that Ianto was still hoping to find the mates to. 

Now that half of the highly polished Cherrywood table was covered with large sheets of craft paper, forming several protective layers, and in the centre of that were three gaily wrapped packages with nice big bows. 

“What’s this, then?” 

“Since you don’t know when your birthday is,” Ianto pulled out the chair and sat his boyfriend down, “I have decided that today is your birthday.” He sat down next to Jack.

Feeling tears beginning to well up, Jack was at a loss for words and he just looked at Ianto with wide eyes.

Understanding the swell of emotions he could see on Jack’s face, Ianto reached out and patted his hand. “So, pressies first or coffee?”

Jack was torn – after Ianto himself, Ianto’s coffee was Jack’s most favourite thing in the world, but on the other hand, there were three packages sitting just inches away, absolutely begging him to discover what was inside. 

Taking pity on the poor man, Ianto stood up. “Tell you what, we’ll do them both at the same time, yeah?” When he got to the kitchen door he looked back, “don’t you touch a thing, and I mean it!”

Still processing what Ianto was giving him, a special day devoted just to him, something most people took for granted because their birthdays had been celebrated every year since they were born, Jack simply sat with his hands folded in his lap, gazing at the little tower of gifts. ‘I don’t know how or why I deserve to have a man like Ianto Jones in my life, to be loved by him, after everything I’ve done in my life, but thank you. Thank you so much.’ He offered a fervent prayer of gratitude to the Universe.

“Okay,” Ianto came back into the dining room carrying a small silver tray. “Close your eyes for me again, please, Cariad?”

A smile crept across Jack’s face. “More surprises?”

“Sort of,” and Ianto set Jack’s blue-and-white striped mug filled with steaming hot coffee on the table to the left of the gifts, which he slid a few inches away from Jack so he could set down a small plate, and then he put his own coffee mug down along with a plate of freshly baked croissants, plates, napkins, silverware and the pot of homemade elderberry jam he’d promised Jack earlier.

With a kiss to the top of Jack’s head, Ianto sat back down. “You can open your eyes again.”

Having already smelled the coffee and knowing that there would be croissants and jam, Jack was quite curious as to what else there might be and when he saw what was on the plate in front of him, he actually gasped. Sitting there was an oversized cupcake with chocolate frosting and a big candle whose flame seemed to wink at him.

“Pen blwydd hapus, Cariad!” Ianto exclaimed and then in the beautiful voice that the Welsh had been gifted with since time immemorial, Ianto Jones sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to his beloved. “Now, make a wish and blow out your candle!”

Jack thought for the briefest moment before he closed his eyes, begged the Universe for the impossible and then sent a puff of air across the candle and the flame was gone.

“Now, remember, you cannot tell me or anyone else what your wish is, or it won’t come true,” Ianto reminded him, knowing full well that Jack had been about to tell him all about it, and to ward off another epic pout, he offered a distraction, “time to open your gifts!”

He watched with a fond smile as Jack ran his finger through his frosting and sucked it clean. “Does it matter which one first?”

Ianto smiled at the unexpected show of restraint; just this past Christmas the living room had been awash with a snowstorm of shredded wrapping paper as Jack had dug into his gifts with joyously child-like abandon. “Actually, I would take them in that order.” 

Jack took the first package, his fingers itching to just rip the paper off, but something told him that they all three deserved a measure of respect, so he followed Ianto’s example, pulled the bow loose and slid his fingers under the tape, gently lifting it and freeing the paper.

It was a curious thing, a leather case roughly three inches by six, and when he unzipped it, Jack discovered a set of tools with small heads; they reminded him of miniature medical tools and he looked at Ianto with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’ll see in a moment,” he smiled back. “Keep going and I’ll explain them all when you’re done.”

Thoroughly intrigued, Jack set it aside and picked up the next package, a large almost twenty-four-inch-square which made very mysterious rattling noises as he moved it around. Again, he carefully removed the paper and handed it to Ianto, who folded it and the ribbon and set them aside. 

One of Ianto’s most treasured possessions was an old shirt box filled with very old wrapping paper from Christmases and birthdays long past, paper loving reused again and again, the stories behind each piece and each gift retold again and again. He had rescued the box from the attic of his grandmother’s house when he was just eleven years old; mam-gu had passed away aged one-hundred-and-two. While his father, two uncles and three aunts had been arguing about who got what of their mother’s possessions, Ianto had crept up into the attic, where he’d often played when his parents had come to visit the elderly woman. 

Ianto knew about the box, he knew the stories behind the papers because his beloved mam-gu had loved sharing them with him over a cup of tea – his was mostly milk and hot water, but still – and there were a few of his own pieces tucked away in there from gifts his grandparents had given him. He also knew after listening to the grown-ups downstairs that if they saw it, one of his aunts would selfishly grab the box just so that none of the others could have it. Hiding it in his coat, Ianto had snuck down the back stairs, around the side of the house, ducking below the windows and then rushed straight for the car where he’d hidden the box under the back seat. Since then he’d added a few precious pieces of his own, preserving the memories of moments he had shared with Jack.

Jack was the only living person who knew Ianto had the paper box, although Ianto had more than a sneaking suspicion that his mam-gu knew full well what he’d done… and that she heartily approved.

It actually took Jack several minutes for his brain to fully process what he was holding in his hands, what his eyes were seeing. “This is a Spitfire, Ianto,” he whispered slowly, holding out the box like it was a holy offering. “This is my plane, Yan, I flew this in the war.” There was true wonder in his voice, as though he weren’t holding a model airplane kit but the actual flying machine itself.

“Yes, I know,” Ianto had a lump in his throat seeing Jack’s reaction. “But there’s more, Cariad, look closer at the box.”

Cocking his head, Jack read the label. “Revered by the British public but feared by the Germans, the Spitfire legend was born during the Battle of Britain and grew throughout the war. Many German bomber crews hated the sight of Spitfires pouncing on them…”

“Not that part, twpsyn,” Ianto laughed at pointed at the top corner. “This…”

“RC Spitfi…” Jack’s eyes grew comically wide and his jaw dropped just like in the Saturday morning cartoons he loved to watch whenever he could. “RC… that stands for Radio Control, doesn’t it! That means…!”

Jack leapt from his seat and began ‘flying’ the plane around the house, making “Vroom! Vroom!” airplane engine sounds while waving the box high above his head like a lunatic. 

Ianto began to giggle, watching Jack being a child again, and when Jack added loud machine gun noises to his repertoire while dive-bombing the recliner chair, he couldn’t contain himself and he began to roar with laughter. 

It took several minutes and the reminder that there was still another present to open before Jack sat down and took a long gulp of his cooling coffee. “Gods, that was fun!” he laughed, his eyes shining brightly.

“I could tell. I’m so glad you were able to bring down that enemy chair!” Ianto teased. “In the middle of the night I’ve often wondered where its loyalties lie,” he confessed as he pointed to the third present. 

Reluctantly, Jack set the model’s box aside and picked up the thin package, handing the paper to Ianto for safekeeping. Removing the lid of the box he discovered a framed photograph and lifting it up, he realised he’d just been given a priceless gift.

Looking out at him from the sterling silver frame were the men of his squadron, himself and the seven souls whom he had trained and then led into battle. He remembered them as though it were just yesterday that they’d been laughing, working, flying. He touched a shaking finger to each face, their names whispering in his mind, ‘Gleason, Wendell, Griffith, Marsters, Kingman, McTiery, and Jackson’. Tears slipped down his cheeks unnoticed as he visited the memories of his time with his men.

Jack’s grief was palpable, and his hands were shaking as he remembered the three who had given their lives in defence of their country and Ianto left him to it, choosing to take the wrapping paper and ribbon to their new home in his mam-gu’s paper box. 

Removing the box from the top shelf of the bedroom wardrobe, he sat down on the bed and opened it, reverently touching the contents, honouring them by introducing the new pieces. “These are from the first birthday an ageless man from the future has had here on Earth,” he explained. “He is a brave and selfless man who has devoted himself to saving the planet and preparing its inhabitants for the future.” Ianto sighed deeply. “I won’t always be here to love him, but I know he’ll take good care of you and take your stories and memories into the future with him.” 

Ianto glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror and for just a split second he saw the little boy who loved to sit at his grandmother’s knee and listen to her stories of her childhood growing up on a small farm, playing in the woods beyond the barn, spending time with the Mara who lived in the trees.

With another deep sigh, Ianto closed the box, gently retying the ribbon that kept it closed and just before he set it back up on the shelf, he hugged it to his chest and whispered, “Love you and miss you, mam-gu, so much.”

Returning to the dining room, Ianto stepped up behind Jack’s chair and wrapped his arms around him, kissing the top of his head. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack reached back and hugged Ianto as best he could. 

“Give me our mugs and I’ll get us some fresh coffee, and then we’ll do some serious damage to those croissants, yeah?”

“Mmm… jam!” 

A few minutes later, Ianto returned with freshly brewed coffee. “Okay, it’s your birthday, so do you want to eat first or learn about your gifts first.”

“Gifts!” Jack didn’t even think about it. “Don’t want to get sticky fingers on them!”

Ianto chuckled; Jack had gotten into trouble for that before; precisely, for sticky peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam fingers all over a brand-new, not-yet-worn bespoke red silk tie. It had not been a good look when Ianto had made Jack wear it all day at the Hub and tell everyone how it came to be that way – although he did leave out a few… personal details.

“All right then, let’s start with the model. You’ve told me so many stories of your RAF flying days during World War II, and I am so very proud of you for serving King and Country. You can thank Rhys for helping with this one. I wanted to get you a to-scale Spitfire you could put in your office, and I know that he loves hunting down things like that, so I told him what I was looking for and he scoured the internet and surprised me with this! 

“It’s one of the very first RC models made of the Spitfire and to find one in mint condition, which means it’s still in its original packaging is incredible. This one is still sealed in its plastic factory wrapping, so it’s guaranteed that none of the parts are missing.”

“Wow,” Jack grinned, “way to go, Rhys!” He turned the box over and read the description. ‘A masterpiece of aerodynamic engineering, the Supermarine Spitfire was among the finest single-seat fighter aircraft used by the Royal Air Force as well as by many other Allied countries throughout the Second World War.

‘With an overall size of 760mm x 935mm, this 1:12 scale model of the 1941 Fighter/Interceptor monoplane comes complete with a replica of the 12-cylinder 'V' Rolls-Royce Merlin engine which enabled it to achieve speeds of up to 597km/h and soar at an altitude of 6,096m. As with the original aircraft, there are two Hispano Mk I/II 20mm cannons and four Browning 7.7mm machine-guns mounted in the wings. There are functioning signal lights and landing gear lights as well as retractable landing gear. The entire airframe assembled with a 35cc gas engine will weigh less than 10 kilos. Paint it in its war-time camouflage or display it with a polished aluminium finish.’ 

He looked up at Ianto. “This is going to be coolest thing ever!! Maybe we can use it to teach Myfanwy where her no-fly zone is?” 

“Or she’ll eat it.” Ianto’s tone was dry. ‘I’m not letting that overgrown toy near my best girl!’

Jack squeaked with horror and clutched the box to his chest. “No Myfanwy! Got it!”

“Good.” Ianto nodded with satisfaction. “Now, the leather case is from Owen; it’s a set of very precise medical instruments designed for the most delicate of neurosurgeries and used before it was all done by computerised robotic arms.”

Jack unzipped the case again and looked at the tools with true respect. “Huh… Every time you think you’ve got Owen figured out as a snarky, rotten bastard, he goes and does something nice like this.”

“You might say thank you by letting him play with you when it’s done,” Ianto suggested, amused by the very accurate description of Dr Owen Harper.

“Okay!” Jack did love to play.

“As for the photograph, that is all Toshiko. She accessed the photographic archives of the British War Museum, which thankfully have been almost completely digitalised, and by putting your face into a facial recognition program, she was able to locate this. It’s the only picture of you she found.”

Pain and sadness filled Jack’s face again as he looked at the photograph; it was the one he and his squadron had had taken a mere fourteen hours before Gleason was shot down over the English Channel. More than eight months passed after that before Kingman went down in flames in a farmer’s field and a further very short three weeks before Wendell parachuted from his burning plane only to be shot and killed while floating in mid-air by a Luftwaffe pilot who was in turn shot down by Captain Jack Harkness himself.

“Tell Tosh…” Jack stopped and cleared his throat, “tell…” It took several swallows before he could get words past the lump in his throat. “There are no words to say how truly grateful I am for this.”

Ianto got up and wrapped his arms around Jack again, letting the man hide his face while ignoring the sobs shaking his body. “It’s okay, Cariad,” Ianto soothed his beloved. “They were heroes and will always be remembered. You will remember them,” correctly guessing the reason for Jack’s tears. 

“I know that my memories will fade in the coming millennia,” Jack raised his head and looked at his beloved Welshman, “even my memories of you.” That thought brought a fresh wave of tears running down his cheeks. “And that just breaks my heart.”

Feeling his own tears spill over, Ianto cupped Jack’s face in his hands. “No, Cariad, your memories might fade up here…” and he stroked Jack’s head, “but here, in your heart…” he moved his hand down to press it over Jack’s heart, “in here, we will live forever, you and I, together forever and always. I promise. Rwy'n dy garu di, Cariad, I love you.”

***** 

Later that evening, the two men sat in front of the fire, sharing Jack’s birthday cupcake; Jack was taking great pleasure in smearing chocolate frosting on Ianto’s nose and then licking it off. After the third time, Ianto had had enough.

“Look, if I give you my present now, will you please stop trying to eat my face?” 

Jack looked back and forth between the frosting already on his finger and Ianto, as though weighing his options and finally, he stuck the finger into his mouth and as lewdly possible sucked it clean, withdrawing it with a loud pop. “I choose pressie!” 

Ianto reached into the drawer of the table next to the sofa and pulled out a small box covered in sapphire-blue velvet. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand… and no cheating. You know I always know.”

“Not admitting to a thing, Yan!” Jack laughed as he did as asked and felt something soft but hard land on his palm. His mind immediately began to imagine all the things it could be, the majority of them naughty.

“Okay, open your eyes.” 

Jack saw the velvet box and immediately answered, “Yes! Oh yes!”

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, Ianto!”

Ianto laughed, “No, you twpsyn! I mean what are you saying yes to?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Gobsmacked by Jack’s answer, because that was definitely not what he was going for, Ianto was at a loss for words and he knew he was doing a BAFTA-winning imitation of a goldfish. “Really?” he managed to squeak. “You would do that? For me?”

“Ianto, I would do anything for you.”

Silently, Ianto reached out and opened the box, showing Jack the sterling silver Spitfire cufflinks inside. “Then consider these your engagement ring, Cariad.”

Jack surged forward, crushing Ianto into the sofa, leaving cupcake, coffee and cufflinks forgotten for quite some time.

***** 

Punching his pillow into shape, Jack stuffed it behind his head as he sat up and looked at his bed mate. “Yan? You awake?”

“I am now.”

The sarcasm went right over Jack’s head. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Ianto’s voice was muffled as he snuggled down into his pillow and pulled the duvet up to his ears.

“Hardee-har-har,” Jack grinned as he looked at the top of his lover’s head, all he could see was curly dark hair. “Okay, then a second question.”

Realising he wasn’t going to get another wink of sleep until he’d satisfied Jack’s curiosity, Ianto uncovered his head and turned to look at his annoying man. “Ask away.”

“Why did you pick today for my birthday?”

“Oh, Cariad, you lovely man,” Ianto reached out and stroked Jack’s face. “I chose today because it is exactly six months from my birthday.”

Jack frowned and then grinned. “The date didn’t even register, it’s just been such a great day.” 

“My birthday is the nineteenth of August, and today is the nineteenth of February. This way when we celebrate my birthday each summer, we can also celebrate your half-a-year birthday.”

“Yan, that’s really clever!”

Ianto shook his head. “I can’t take credit for it. There was a kid in one of my classes whose birthday was Christmas. He never had a real birthday until his mam thought of having a party on June 25th; she called it his half-a-year birthday and invited all the kids in his class to a pool party. Luckiest kid in the world.” 

“No,” Jack slid down in bed and pulled Ianto into his arms. “I’m the luckiest kid in the whole universe.”

End

***** 

A/N: I used this site for my Welsh translations: University of Wales Trinity St David found here (minus the spaces) www. geiriadur. net


End file.
